


Random Mark Beaks Stories

by Mark_Beaks_Is_Best_Parrot



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic Mark Beaks, Bulimia, Bulimic Mark Beaks, Child Abuse Implication, Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mark Beaks had a bad childhood, Mark Beaks has a lot of issues, Past Child Abuse, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Indulgent, Self-Worth Issues, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mark_Beaks_Is_Best_Parrot/pseuds/Mark_Beaks_Is_Best_Parrot
Summary: A collection of one-shots and little ficlets on Mark Beaks (since he's my all-time favorite character) these will be 100% filled to the brim with angst, and nothing but angst because my favorite characters don't get happy endings, only pain. (PLEASE READ THE TAGS)
Relationships: Crackbeaks, Mark Beaks & Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, Mark Beaks/Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera
Kudos: 6





	1. Anorexia/Bulimia PART ONE!

**Author's Note:**

> I will expand more on everything in upcoming chapters, please don’t hate me YET

_"You look so hideous! Like you just got run over by a garbage truck!"_

Said one commenter on Marks' latest selfie. It was just supposed to be a casual selfie, nothing too big, nothing too flashy, just a selfie of him at his work desk pretending to work; Big and flashy, with a lot of hashtags and buzzwords- it was his thing! He couldn't change his thing!

_"Ha ha! Ikr?! He looks so damn ugly. Like the self-absorbed freak he really is has finally come out!"_

_"Lol this is why everyone fucking hates you! You're a freak with nothing redeeming about yourself at all! Look at how fucking fat you are. No wonder nobody sticks around with you for more than three post they only want your money."_

Though, at this rate, it looked like he wouldn't have a choice... everyone hated his thing- no— everyone hated HIM!

"Ewwww I think he gained weight."

_"Ugh, unfollowing. You are NOT the same anymore. I didn't care that you were fake before, but now you're ugly too. I can't even."_

_"U R not cute STFU"_

_"You're so fucking stupid. No one likes your post."_

He didn't understand why people were hating on him so much lately. This isn't the only time the internet has turned against him. People have commented mean things ever since he became a millionaire... but never this much. It was too much- too much about his appearance- too much about his weight- too much at once- Gyro and Fenton were out of Duckburg right now he couldn't call them and beg for them to come over and help him stop crying... Mark Beaks would have to handle this all on his own... and Mark Beaks being on his own never truly went well for anyone.

He didn't stop crying for three whole days. He locked himself in his room, and just sobbed. He didn't eat, he barely slept, and didn't drink anything either he just looked at his phone and cried. Everyone he knew hated him and Mark didn't even know what he did- they just kept yelling and shouting and calling him a waste of space.

It reminded Mark of the bullies from school.

It reminded Mark of his father.

It reminded Mark of his mom.

It reminded Mark of everyone that has ever been in his life.

They lured him into a false sense of security and happiness, fucked him over, took his money, insulted him, and then left.

Mark Beaks just couldn't take it anymore. He threw his phone against the wall, shattering the screen, and sobbed as he tore apart everything in his room. Smashing and destroying everything he once had. By the time Mark finished tearing open his bedsheets, his whole room was a mess from top to bottom. The ceiling had cracks in them, the floorboards were unhinged, the pictures on the walls had holes in them, the bed was falling apart, his dresser was collapsed and nightstand fallen over. Everything that was once in his closet was strewn all over the floor. But the mirror. The mirror was still intact.

The mirror was the one thing that survived Marks temper tantrum... and Mark Beaks couldn't help but wonder how. He soon walked over, lifted up the mirror, and his eyes went wide. He didn't even recognize himself- he was such a mess! His hair was an unkept disaster, his clothes were torn, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Mark began hating his appearance, and hating everything about himself ten times more than he already had. If he wanted people to like him and pay attention to him, he figured he would have to first be someone WORTH liking. So, he began fixing himself up, and getting back to inventing- or, rather, stealing other peoples inventions and making them his own. He continued posting on social media, just more on twitter and a noticeable less amount of selfies, which puzzled his followers but none decided to look into it.

Mark had decided to cut back on his meals. He refused to eat breakfast, reading somewhere that not eating breakfast helped weight loss, he did plenty of research online and learned a few tricks that would've helped him positively lose weight if he didn't decide "slowly dieting is for losers! Beaks doesn't do patience" and took everything to the extreme and completely cut off food or throwing everything back up on his 3rd day of dieting.

It was on week 2 that most people who followed his Instagram account or saw him in real life noted what was going on. At this point, he wasn't even trying to not die during his 'diet' he was just seeing how many likes he could get by lying and saying his newfound diet was 'approved by a medical professional' even though Mark doesn't even know how to SPELL professional: he wrote 'pofisssonel'.

Though, everyone seemed to believe him- and those that were smart enough not to, encouraged the young parrots downfall and told him to starve even further until he could see every last one of his bones.

Mark was heading down a dark path that would lead into his downfall, and no one even seemed to care.

It was 4 weeks in when Fenton came into his office unannounced. Of course, Mark was NOT complaining- though, Mark found it a bit harder to stand than normal, and nearly fainted when he tried to walk up to Fenton and greet the love of his life. Everyone who has ever been on social media knew Mark had a super-kawaii crush on the gizmo-hero, but also knew Fenton didn’t feel the same way towards Mark. It shattered the African Grey parrots pride, but also encouraged him to continue his ‘journey’, as he called it, to ‘be someone worth loving’ which would be fine if he wasn’t killing himself in the process.

Mark Beaks could barely stand, and was becoming lightheaded. Mark was confused what was happening to him, but didn't think about it since the duck he idolized and dreamed of- GIZMODUCK -was right in front of him! And he couldn't be more excited! "G- Gizmoduck! Er, Fenton- Cabrera?? What do you like for me to call you?- I'll just call ya amigo since that's what you are to me, me amigo! Unless you would like to be more-- but I don't think you would like that and it would make things a liiiiitle awkward between us soooo- chico! Pew-pew pew-pew pew!" He chuckled lightly as all throughout that speech, he really did sound so much like the Mark Beaks everyone knew. Funny, charismatic, talkative, stupid, in love with him, and a bit socially awkward— that was Mark Beaks! That was the scheming hacked Fenton always knew... yet- he wasn't the same at all.

Mentally, Mark SEEMED to be as he always was, but physically he was so thin and boney, and looked so much weaker than before. Mark had always been lanky, and far weaker physically than Fenton ever was, that was just how Mark was and there was no changing that- but THIS- it was too far and too soon. Fenton did not want to even want think about the thought that Mark was doing this too himself intentionally. He just didn't want to.

They talked, Fenton helped Mark to sit down somewhere where they could talk privately, and Mark as happy as ever to spend time with him. He took selfies to preserve that moment forever, smiled so big and so cheerfully that Fenton- for a moment- thought he might have been wrong for a moment. All the unintelligible buzzwords and ‘pew-pew-pew’ that Mark was saying seemed genuine. Though, halfway through typing Mark had complained about how lightheaded he was feeling, and how cold he was feeling despite being in a hoodie in the middle of summer.

Fenton just needed to make sure his arch nemesis/stalker was okay. That’s it. Nothing more. And Mark didn't even seem to acknowledge where this conversation was leading towards.

Fenton had asked Mark what he had been doing lately, if anyone was harming him or seemingly trying to get close to him for the wrong reasons. If he was doing alright or if something had been bothering him recently. Mark wasn't stupid. Naïve, definitely, but never dumb. Mark could tell if someone was trying too hard to get close to him, or if someone was coning him. Fenton had been there with Mark after he was betrayed by a past love interest, Fenton knew better than to think Mark would allow himself to be hurt like that again.

Mark was answering that he was fine and no one was harming him in any way. Fenton believed it, but knew there was something Mark was hiding. "Have you been eating lately?" With that question, Marks expression changed and he turned away, becoming irritated by the mere question.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm worried about you. I can tell-"

"Tell what exactly, Gizmoduck? That I need to lose weight? That I don't deserve the popularity I have? That I should starve to death? That I'm..." He paused for a split moment, and then sighed. "... I don't need a lecture or hate comment to tell what I have right in front of me. If that's all you came here to say, you're wasting your time." He said simply, taking out his phone once again and tapping away.

Fenton paused a moment. "Hate comments?" Fenton wasn't dumb either.

Mark sighed, knowing that it was his own fault he let the words slip out without even thinking, and then handed one of his many phones to Fenton. "Under the posts from a few weeks ago..."

Fenton looked through the post, and finally spotted a long string of hate comments and random accounts telling Mark he was fat, ugly, unwanted, worthless- and so much more. If he went to DM request, he would see private messages telling Mark to kill himself in many, many, gruesome and truly traumatizing ways.

After looking through a few more, Fenton thought he was disgusted and angry enough. How could someone say all those horrendous things to Mark?! Mark was only 18, and on top of that, he didn’t do anything worthy of PEOPLE TELLING HIM TO COMMIT SUICIDE OR STARVE HIMSELF! Fenton wanted nothing more than to get in his Gizmoduck suit and fly off to whoever the hell thought it would be 'funny' to tell Mark Beaks to starve himself and serve a bit of justice. Though, at the end, Fenton knew it wouldn’t help Mark in any way to beat the living shit out of his haters. It was Mark’s mental state that was doing this, no one else, they just fueled the fire.

He quickly set Marks phone aside- but not before reporting, deleting, and blocking those horrendous people since it was quite obvious Mark himself thought he deserved to have that hate under his posts- which was nothing more than some simple selfies with a stupid #nofilter for a caption. In Fenton's eyes, he couldn't see anything Mark had done to deserve what he was going through. Mark wasn't perfect, nor was he innocent, and he had definitely done plenty of wrong things in his time on Earth- but he didn't deserve to be told to kill himself and all the numerous ways he could die for posting a bunch of stupid pictures with cringe tags.

At least, Fenton didn't think so. So, he did what he could. He hugged Mark, comforted him and let him cry out all the pain and sadness he had been hiding and dealing with alone. For who knows how long. It made Fenton think... Fenton had gone through some shit himself, but he always had his mother and his friends to help him through it- he was even sure Mark would mercilessly murder anyone who dared make Fenton upset.

But Mark didn't have that. He had to be completely on his own and deal with any mental issues he may be facing on his own. If he was feeling sad, he would have to deal with that sadness on his own. In whatever creative ways he could think of all alone. His parents weren't around to care and guide him- and even if they were, Fenton had met Marks mother and sister, and had heard stories of his father— it was probably for the best they weren't with Mark at the moment —-still, Mark had no friends, all he had was his phone and right now there were people on it that were telling him to starve himself— Mark wasn't alright and the people he would normally cry about his problems to hated him and wanted him D E A D.

"... How many times did you think about it?..." Fenton asked Mark once Mark had finished sobbing his little heart out.

Mark was confused for a moment. "... Wha?"

Fenton sighed. "Don't try that with me. I know you were thinking about taking at least some of that perras' advice. You have cuts on your arm that you tried to cover-up with that hoodie, but I saw it. Now tell me... is any of what you're doing to yourself worth all that pain?"

Mark froze for a moment, mouth a-gap, and eyes filled with half-confusion, and half-hurt. Hurt that he wasn't good at hiding his feelings, or that the man he loved was too smart for him... Fenton did not know. But eventually, Mark's facade broke again. "... How are you so smart?... How do you know everything?... How do you know me so well?... Even before I do it, you and Dr. Gearloose figure everything out- I hate you and love you for that, chico... I just... I don't know. Everyone hates me. You hate me, Gyro hates me, Graves REALLY hates me... even my followers hate me... and it hurts. Beaks doesn't like being hurt." He sighed, laughing a bit at the situation he found himself in, before once again feeling himself become wrapped in Fentons embrace. Mark was caught off guard, "Wah- what are you doing-... amigo?... Chico..." He felt himself blush a little.

"I never once said I hated you." Fenton said, hugging the thin, malnourished male tighter. "... And you really have to start eating again..."

Mark looked up at Fenton, and the tears began pouring down from his eyes once again. "... I love you, chico... b- but... i- if I do then they will bully me again... and it will be worse because I'll be fat..."

Fenton's eyes were wide, hurt visible in his glances towards Mark's boney, far-too-scrawny frame. He was so damn scrawny!! He barely weighed anything at all and was leaning against Fenton just to not completely collapse on the floor. Mark was STARVED and was going to die if nothing was done to help him. And currently, since Gyro was out of town, it was up to Fenton to help put the African Grey Parrot put himself back together.

"Mark, look at yourself! You're starving to death! I can actually see your bones!" Fenton screamed out, holding Mark gently in his arms, as he could feel all of his bones and how much weight the young parrot had lost. Mark Beaks was actually younger than Fenton by a few years, and it's hard for Fenton to see him like that. So weak, and helpless. He gently held Mark and allowed the grey parrot to rest his head on the ducks shoulder. "Please, Mark, you're so malnourished... eres tan delgada... ¡te vas a consumir si no comes pronto!"

Mark sighed, holding onto him as tightly as his weak arms could. Sometimes, all the little grey parrot needed to feel okay again, was to be in the arms of the bird he loved most. "... Lo sé, es difícil ... todo el mundo siempre me trata como a un monstruo gordo solo quiero demostrarles que soy alguien a quien vale la pena prestarle atención." He said, replying to Fenton in spanish, as both had agreed to speak the language when they were both being most earnest and truthful with each other. Despite the countless tears flowing down his face and soaking his feathers, for someone whose first language was not Spanish, he spoke it even better than he did English. "A nadie le importa. No valgo nada. Soy un don nadie. Debería dejarme solo—" The small parrot was cut off by a powerful embrace from the superhero duck.

"NEVER- and I repeat- NEVER believe it would be best if you would just kill yourself. You are a wonderful, marvelous bird and ANYONE would be unbelievably lucky to know you. To have the opportunity to see you, to hold you, to be near you and get a chance to know what goes on in that crazy little head of yours." He stopped when he heard Mark sobbing.

Pitifully, and curled in on himself like a small child. "No quieres decir que... solo hables en español cuando realmente quieres decir algo... PROMETEMOS que lo haríamos."

Fenton's eyes widened, and then sighed, as he gently ran his hands through Mark's grey locks in a calming manner. And whispered to the sobbing parrot, "No debería tener que hablar en otro idioma para demostrar lo mucho que significas para mí, Mark... mi amigo, mi buen chico." He said, a soft smile strung across his face as he watched to once energetic, confident boy he once knew cowering on him as he barely weighed 69 pounds.

If Fenton ever caught the bastards who did this to him... may the lord have mercy on them.

By the time Mark had cried out all that he had been holding inside for all those weeks, it was nightfall and most of the Waddle employees had gone home. Fenton then agreed for Mark to spend the night at his house. At first, Fenton's mother DESPISED Mark, but Fenton assured her that Mark was no threat- and that if he tried anything he was so scrawny that anyone could easily beat his ass -so Mark was allowed to stay.

Shockingly enough, Mark didn't try anything. Fenton was shocked when he just went to sleep and didn't try pulling any romantic advances at him. It actually concerned him. Mark was ALWAYS trying to force Fenton into loving him. Mark did that with every guy he was attracted to, what made Fenton any different? But when Mark didn't make ANY romantic 'jokes' or attempt to woo him the first couple of days... it ended up making Fenton more uncomfortable than the advances had ever made him.

Fenton then began trying to make advances towards Mark, small things, things that most wouldn't notice, but Mark certainly would. A smile whenever Mark turned his way, nudges in the arm, making Marks favorite foods, asking him where he wanted to go or how work at Waddle was going. Small things. But enough to make Mark remember how much he had fallen in love with Fenton.

It was about two weeks in, Mark was struggling with relapses and body issues. He was in his/Fenton's room, trying to hold himself together to try and get through the night- when he felt Fenton wrap an arm around him. Fenton didn't say a thing. Just stayed there. Hugging him gently.

It was enough.

Mark was enough.

More time passed, the weeks turned into months and Mark was better. He didn't have to stay at Fenton's place anymore but Mark liked it there- even if Fenton's mom frightened him just a liiiiiiitle bit. It was nice there. Fenton was nice.

Mark couldn't be happier to have him as a boyfriend. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Childhood Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark’s childhood is dark, horrible, and filled with trauma from his homophobic father, judgmental mother, and violent older sister. Everyone in Mark’s childhood is an asshole pretty much- except Gyro. Mark Beaks needs a hug confirmed in my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t read just.... don’t read... I’ll probably edit this in the future.

“You loser!” His father, Darrick, shouted at Mark when Mark was simply 5-years-old and couldn’t catch the softball his older sister, Marcy, 10-years-old, threw at him. It hit him square in the face, giving him a bruised skull. “Can’t even catch a fucking ball thrown by your SISTER! You worthless wimp! How did I end up with a son like you...” He glared at Mark before kicking the already crying child to the ground. “You’re not welcome in this house until you can learn to at least catch a football.” He threw the football to Marcy, who caught it easily. The man then walked inside the house, leaving the two children to ‘play‘ in the yard.

Marcy looked between the door where her father had gone through, and her sobbing little brother, who just couldn't seem to put himself together quite yet. “... Brother, I can just lie and say you caught it at least once- if you want to head back inside and get an ice pack for your noggin’... don’t want to have a bruised brother, y’know, hehe!” She laughed slightly, trying to lighten the mood so hopefully her little brother would at least TRY to laugh at her pitiful attempt at jokes.

Mark jokes wiped his tears and sorely looking at the ground, a dejected look on his face. “N- no... it’s f- fine... big sis... I’ll be okay... dad said I have to, so, I have to!” He shakingly stood up, quivering and his head pounding as he did, the feeling of pain overtaking him and telling him to sit down and rest.

Marcy frowned, knowing when he set his mind to something, he would do it.

Fortunately for everybody, he was still only five and rage quit after he missed the 3rd time.

Marcy lied to her father, and went to get Mark three packs of ice Mark decided he would stay in his sisters room to play games on her tablet. Marcy held the ice pack over his bruises, putting some bandages over the worst ones. “I’m sure dad will go easier on you next time, Marcus...” She said to her younger brother. Mark narrowed his eyes and just continued playing his games. “... Marcus, I-“

“... It’s fine, big sis...” He leaned against his older sister, and cuddled up to her closely. “... Why doesn’t dad love me?”

Marcy froze at her brothers question. Looking into his big, yellow, distraught eyes. In all honesty, she did not know. She overheard something about Mark being too lanky and weak, as well as Mark’s gender being ‘wrong’. She knows her parents wanted two girls. Mark was a boy. Their dad was disappointed in Mark the moment he was born.

And as the years went by, and their mothers magazine got big, popular, bringing her even more more work; to be busier than before, and Mark grew even more unsafe from his fathers ruling.

Mark was seven years old when he was first picked on by someone who wasn’t a family member. Some group of boys at school saw Mark reading a storybook on the playground during recess all by himself- no one around, just alone and reading some shitty book. Everyone laughed at him and he was bullied all throughout recess he was sad and hated everything and hated school for a little while and didn’t want to go back. He was moved up a few grades the next few days since the bullying got out of hand and he was beat up after school. He had a black eye and several bruised bones, and a few cracked ribs. There was blood pouring from every wound and Marcy wondered if one kid used a knife when she saw how much blood her brother had lost and how many cuts were on his skin.

Marcy will never forget the hopeless, dreadful, broken look in her brothers eyes when he came home completely beaten and on the verge of defeat and was told “suck it up” by his own father.

Mark was ten, Marcy remembers, when he first told her about his interest in guys. How long had he been having these feelings- Marcy didn’t know- but what she did know was how their father would NEVER approve. But, the moment Marcy brought over a group of her friends to study- and one of them just so happened to be a cute guy -and coincidentally her little brother suddenly wanted to spend all day in her room and chat with specifically one of her friends... she knew her little brother had more than just an ‘interest in guys’. And so she listened. She understood... that friend was hot!! She even had a bit of a crush on him!

Mark, though, also had crushes on some boys his own age. Another nerd from his class, a though jock that would never go for him in a million years, a tough soon-to-be-scientist with seemingly a heart of stone... yeah, Mark had all kinds of crushes, and it was obvious that he was in love with one that might like him back, it was just... their father proclaimed many times- of course when Emma Glamour wasn’t home -that he hated gay people and queers of any kind. Even being ten years old, Mark knew it would be best to keep quiet, at least for the moment.

Her little brother really was a genius.

Mark was eleven when he first entered the world of social media. He began recording videos online and playing games and filming himself doing stuff for views and interactions with people. He began wondering what editing was, and thought of how to use technology to spice up his videos a bit. Mark picked it up and made videos seemingly effortlessly... though they took a lot of effort he just didn’t have a social life so he had a lot of time to be on the internet and tinker with technology.

Everything was going great, until some strangers on the internet told him everything he made was bad and gave him several death threats over the course of a few hours. It sent shame, terror, and made Mark begin crying as all the things those people called him reminded him of what his parents called him. It hurt. He hated it. He began hating himself at the age of eleven. He began putting on a mask of confidence and joy the same day. And yet, still, he’s trying to continue putting things out there just to prove the people who bully and abuse him that they are wrong and that he CAN be PERFECT.

It hasn’t worked yet. He can’t prove it to himself yet. And he probably never will

Mark was thirteen years old when he met his soon-to-be best friend. A ‘girl’ in his class who was SUPER SMART! Mark had skipped a ‘few’ grades and was now in a high school science class. The other student had been writing out some blueprints and didn’t hear the teacher say they were to be partnered up, and to choose partners quickly. Mark, of course, walked up to the only person in the class to get a perfect score on EVERY TEST! As Mark considered himself pretty smart too.

“Ah, I suppose you two will be partners?” The teacher said as she walked around to copy down what groups there were around the class.

Mark chirped eagerly, “Yep!” Just before the other had looked up from the blueprints.

“What?” The teacher had already walked away, and the two were stuck together. The student sighed. “Ugh, guess I should get over with the awkward introductions or whatever. The name’s Gyro, I don’t care what anyone tells you, kid, that’s my name.” said the student as though sick of this day when it had just started. Moving some fluffy hair out of their glasses way, Gyro looked to Mark. “And you are?”

“Uhm, I’m Mark! Marcus Beaks, to be exact- but I prefer it was people call me Mark! And I believe the teacher said you name was Angela or something??” Mark asked naïvely with a tilt of his head, fixing his own glasses.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah- I don’t care what my parents tell the school or whatever- I... ugh, it’s complicated, you wouldn’t get it, big kid stuff.” Gyro said, before flipping through the pages of the textbook. “Lets just get through with this dumb assignment so you don’t have to speak to me again, cool? Cool.” Gyro continued writing down some answers on the worksheet, and Mark frowned.

“No way! You’re super smart, that’s why I wanted to work with you. Listen, I know I’m the youngest here, but, my big sister says that if I’m in such an advanced class, it means I belong here... so, Gyro, I want to hear whatever you’ve gotta say. Cool? Cool cool cool.” He said, insistent.

Gyro simply rolled his eyes. “Ugh, you aren’t going to let this go, are you?” With a head shake from the parrot, Gyro sighed. “Well, fine, I’m trans. But if I want to change my name, cut my hair, pick out my own clothes or just do anything to make me feel more comfortable in my own skin... they reject it. And tell me I’m just going to have to suck it up and being transgender isn’t a real thing. But... it's whatever I guess. Parents...”

Mark looked to Gyro with wide eyes, and sighed. “Yeah, parents... my mom is always being incredibly critical of me! Always saying I can’t do things, that I’m a disgrace for what I wear, or how I do my hair, or how I talk... and even when I TRY to change, it's never enough... my older sister could rob a bank and they would still like her better than me... My dad... my dad hates me... I don’t know what I did, I’m just a bad kid to him...” He sighed. “I guess that’s just how some parents are though, huh?” He gave a weak laugh.

Gyro sighed, looking down, thinking about how fucked up the situation they both shared was. “Yeah, I guess... but, hey, even with our fucked up families, we’re still here, and we’re still the smartest in this class... heh, we could probably rule this place with our minds, tch, shit’s too easy.”

Mark nodded. “Why do you think I skipped so many grades, the work was too simple.” He laughed, and began doing the group work. “Want to become partners again next time?”

Gyro nodded. “Yeah, Mark... wanna go over to your place, got some great ideas for these new inventions that they won’t let me try out in any science or robotics class.”

Mark began thinking of his parents and families, and shock his head. “Uhm- no- mine is uhm... busy! And uh- we could just go somewhere else- I here the park, or beach, or any place that isn’t near my family is lovely this time of year!” He laughed slightly, and Gyro rolled his eyes, understanding that Mark simply didn’t want to be around his family. Gyro couldn’t judge, he didn’t want to be around his own either.

Mark was 16 when he founded Waddle.

Yes, he was. He was kicked out of the house the moment he told his father he was gay. Without a second thought, he was no longer his son. He was no longer ‘Marcus Beaks’ just ‘Mark’ and Mark didn’t really think that was enough.

The young parrot lost a lot that day. His home, his money, his last name, his hope, his will to live... all in the span of two minutes.

30 seconds to tell your dad you’re gay.

20 seconds for him to respond.

10 seconds for him to be in denial.

Another 30 seconds for you to try and explain yourself and your choices and how you feel-

And 15-20 seconds for him to ask one or two questions if you’re lucky.

And then the final 30 seconds to be kicked out of your own home.

The two minutes of hell.

Mark was hopeless for three days.

He had no where to go, and was supposed to be starting college soon, but, where would he get the money?? He had no clue. Mark resorted between getting some small jobs in the tech industry, and using the laptop Marcy had smuggled out of the house for him.

Despite how violent she was and how envious she was of his smarts, and how they haven’t gotten along well at all since Mark was 12... Marcy still loved her little brother and knew what he could do with tech by just using a simple laptop and phone.

And she was completely right.

In a short about of time, Mark was running a company.

Well, maybe not SHORT amount of time.

He lost a lot of weight, was nearly robbed and mugged, had no where to sleep and the days only seemed to drag on further, if it wasn’t for Gyro being kind enough to let Mark spend the nights at his dorm room in college, Mark didn’t know if he would make it...

But, still, Mark made his company. It wasn’t without flaws, he had to scrap a lot of ideas and budgeting money was never his strong suite— but he found his way in the tech world, got an idea, wether inspired by someone else or not, followed the latest trends, and used it well to make money.

It was fine. Mark would be fine. As the project took off, so did Mark. He said goodbye to Gyro but made sure to text and check on him to see how everything was going and if he finally said “fuck you” to his family.

Things were well... his sister refused to talk to him after an argument, his parents still think he’s a disappointment despite Mark making some pretty damn good money for his age, and winning several awards in the span of a few months-to-years.

He was okay... anxiety and crippling loneliness settled in not long after he was put into the richer classes and surpassed his parents in net-worth. He kept up with information and tried his best to not miss a beat on what was new and trending. Everything was closing in on him it was one thing after another and nothing ever seemed to end everything just kept going and going and faster and smarter and he had to be BETTER or else his parents will find out he’s a loser and con artist he was just allowed to go back home he CAN’T GO BACK OUT ON HIS OWN HE JUST CAN’T—-

If only him and Gyro didn’t hate each other a few weeks after Mark attempted suicide.


	3. Childhood: More!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I got bored and couldn’t think of anything new so- MORE FROM MARKS CHILDHOOD! Also triggering warning for... everything. Legitimately everything. If you are triggered by anything depressing or implications of suicide, don’t read my writing. At all.

“...” Marcus was silent when he was first hit. At least, from as early as he can remember. He didn’t cry until he was alone. He knew the words would only be yelled louder and the pain would only worsen. He knew his dad was right about everything, too.

Hm, maybe this wasn’t the first time he was hit.

It felt like it. But at the same time it didn’t. He knew what to do: stay quiet, keep his head down, stop the sobs or weakness from escaping, and pray it would all be over soon.

And even so- it seemed the prayers never reached- because he just kept talking, and yelling, shouting at the top of his lungs every single last thing that could possibly ever be wrong with his son. Everything that Mark was doing wrong with his life. Everything that he couldn’t get right, everything that he had failed at so horribly, was being outlined by the one person he hated the most in this whole godforsaken world...

And yet still, when his face was covered in bruises and red, and he was thrown like some doll into his room with the door slammed shut, not to come out until his mother was home to scold him more for whatever lie his father had told her this time...

It was only until the footsteps faded that Mark finally let out a subtle sob and that the tears flowed out so pitifully.

“... I hate it here...” He finally mumbled after an hour of helpless sobbing. “... I hate it here... why can’t ONE THING GO RIGHT- why can’t I do anything right... why am I such a bad kid?...” He sobbed, the tears flowing down his face as he curled up and choked back tears. “... Why?... why?...”

Words that his father said suddenly popped back into his mind, and echoed in his brain.

“You’re useless. You’re weak. You’re a disgrace to the family name. You shouldn’t have ever been born!! What a mistake I made wanting another kid... who could possibly ever want a son like you? We would all be better off if you just killed yourself already like all the other queers!!”

Mark’s golden eyes widened at the memory.

His own family wanted him dead...

Then he should die.

He should.

“... I will die... it’s not like anyone would care...”

He grabbed a knife he kept inside a drawer for science experiments and... for relief. For calming his frantic mind down by slitting his wrist open and watching the blood drip down.

“... Now it will finally be put to some better use... Getting rid of real mistakes...”

He said, with a slightly insane smile.

Mark was smart. He put thought into this. This was FAR from the first time he’s thought of doing this. Very far from the first...

He held the knife approximately a centimeter from his neck, and moved it closer, until he felt the cold blade graze his feathers, and then—-

\- Years Later -

Some days Mark wished he had succeeded that day. Others, he was content with the way things turned out. Most days he was surprised he hadn’t tried again yet.

Now, as a legal adult, and still being scolded by his mother at home for being a complete shame and disgrace to the family name, just by working in the tech industry. Mark was a billionaire and successful in so many different ways- but none of it had any value to his mother and father if he couldn’t catch a fucking baseball.

“Well I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment...” Mark said, crossing his arms, looking to the side and glaring at the ground, trying to fight the tears in his eyes.

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Yes, yes you are. I wish I never had a son at all.” She grabbed her shades and put them back on, before strutting off. “Also, Marcus, you should consider losing some weight. Your appearance affects this whole families reputation. And makes us look... almost as disgusting as you.” She said, to her bulimic son, before strutting away.

Her words had this way of making anyone who was on the receiving end begin think they were worthless and inferior in comparison to her. The piercing cold glares... the complete lack of emotion in every hard-hitting word that just made Mark feel he wasn’t even worth speaking towards.

It made the beating he got from his dad seem like almost nothing by sheer comparison.

Though, it was something, and left painful bruising on the side of his face that was fortunately enough, covered by his feathers. And the bleeding from his beak stopped before work the next day.

Mark believed he deserved this most days, so he honestly didn’t make a big deal over it- the majority of Duckburg didn’t even know, and didn’t need to. And when he was feeling bold and believed he didn’t deserve all the pain and hurt he went through, he also acknowledged there was nothing he could do to stop all the pain. So, Mark simply decide to suck it up, and simply try to separate himself from his family as much as he could. Unless there was a time where he believed he could prove to his parents he mattered...

And yet, those attempts never worked for too long, since Marks attitude and false persona made itself known soon enough, as well as his clumsiness making itself known quite quickly.

No point.

His life was pointless.

Everything was pointless.

So what’s the point of Mark continuing on if everyone hated him, including his parents?


	4. Anorexia And Bulimia: Part 2 Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was called “Deadly Thoughts” on Fanfiction.Net and also didn’t exist until I realized the original Pt 2 for Anorexia and Bulimia completely shit on the original one, so, I changed it. And a new part two will not exist until I can think of a plot line that EXPANDS on what we already know about Mark’s mental state, and adds onto it. Also may or may not include Gyro cause I love my three science bois :)

“Are you sure YOU should be going to one of Emma Glamour’s parties? I mean, she is your mom, but she can be a biiiiit-“

“Rude, cold, hypocritical, bitchy, insensitive, calculative, cruel, unnecessarily critical to everyone within a two mile radius of her piercing frozen glare.”

“... I was going to say mean but yours work too!”

The two exchanged words as both got dressed for Emma Glamours’ party. It was the first time in YEARS Mark had been invited to one. And he was ecstatic to impress her! Best of all, it was just a week before Mark’s 19th birthday party, so, needless to say, the younger bird was hyped!

Fenton, on the other hand, was worried. It was not even close to a year since Mark was relapsing and having mental breakdowns over his appearance, and Fenton did not want that to begin again. It was far too draining for them both. And, having the young parrot near his biological family during those times... after hearing stories of how they treated him even worse than how those on the internet treated him-NOT the best idea. It just wasn’t good for someone in Mark’s position. Yet, here they were, dressing fancy as if they were to meet the queen.

Truly, in Fenton’s opinion, fighting another shadow war against super-powerful Magica would do less damaging to Mark’s psyche than this ‘party’.

“Come on, amigo! This will be fun!” Mark exclaimed, trying to tie-up his tie. “You look great! And you’re like super smart! My mom knows that, and she said she’s going to try and be supportive now... please, just try to get along with her, for me? okay?” He said, yellow eyes softened with a sheepish smile on his face.

Fenton couldn’t resist. Mark just looked so damn cute- he sighed, and nodded his head. “Okay. Fine. I’ll TRY to-“ Fenton couldn’t even finish his sentence before Mark tackled him with a hug.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Mark jumped up and smiled brightly and he hugged Fenton tightly. “Before-party selfie!!!” He took out his phone and snapped a surprise selfie with his love. “Haha, we look great!” He said, walking off and quickly typing out a caption and posting it. “Come on, lets go!” He said, hastily fixing himself and rapidly speeding out the door, quickly dragging Fenton along with him.

“Wait- Mark!- I’m not finished yet!” He exclaimed as Mark pulled him along.

“No time! Fix your feathers in the helicopter!!” He yelled and hoped into the helicopter with Fenton in tow.

“My feathers are fine you-... helicopter?” Fenton was shocked at the sight as Mark threw a helmet on Fenton’s head, as well as his own, and began flying them to the pristine gala as fast as the Waddle helicopter could go. “Wha- what? I know your mother hates it when you’re late but-“

“Exactly, chico! So, since my private jet is still ‘unsuited for childish activities’ as my lawyer likes to put it... Beaks helicopters it is!!” He took out his phone and began playing his music as loud as he possibly could, and zoomed through the skies in his helicopter, the music blasting so loud he couldn’t hear Fenton's screams as the helicopter smashed in the rooftop of the fancy building the event was being held at.

——————————

The African Grey Parrot and short duck climbed down the vents, before landing on an opening in the vent. “Hm, what’s that down there-“ And before Mark could get another word out, the hatch opened and the two managed to collide with the ground.

In the middle of the staircase in the party.

In front of everyone.

Emma Glamour is not amused.

“Marcus, what is the meaning of this?! And who is this... duck... that you have brought with you?” She asked with a glare towards her son. Voice as cold and as frozen as ice.

“Mom, this is Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, A.K.A. Gizmoduck!” He exclaimed with a bright smile. Standing up with some help from said Gizmoduck, who seemed he would rather not have his superhero identity exposed to the judgmental parrot. Mark, meanwhile, was haphazardly fixing his blazer and tried to tie his tie, but ended up needing Fenton’s help, again. Mark blushed a bit, and smiled happily towards his not-so-secret boyfriend.

Emma groaned, already knowing. “So you couldn’t find a loving girlfriend to accompany you to my pristine gala, but you could find a robot to disappoint me with...” She sighed and then put back on her glasses. “I thought you had changed, I suppose I was wrong. I should have never invited a son like you...” Emma turned around and walked off to try and do damage control so no one would see that her son was a clumsy, homosexual, idiot.

But, not everything always goes to plan. And sometimes- your ex-husband comes in to loudly ruin everything.

“WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT?!”

“MARCUS BEAKS,” Mark’s father, Darrick Beaks, marched over and glared angrily at his son, who was instinctually hiding behind Fenton. Mark’s father was always the most violent, insensitive, and uncivil of Mark’s family tree... obviously.

“I- I-... Hey, dad...” His voice quivered unevenly, and grip tightened on Fenton’s arm. “I- I... c- came for the party... w- with my, uhm...“ his voiced quieted as he kept talking nervously. “... my partner, Fenton...”

“Partner?!” He exclaimed. “Tch, I knew you were a disgrace to the family, but I did not think that you were THIS much of a disgrace. How did I end up with a son like you? A ugly, fatass shit.”

Just as Mark’s pent-up tears were about to fall, and Fenton’s temper about to burst, but, as he felt Mark’s grip tighten on his arms- he knew there were more important things to deal with rather than Darrick being an asshole to his own kid. Fenton grabbed Mark, and pulled him away from the scene. Away from his parents. The last thing Mark needed was to be called a ‘fatass’ by some washed-up old coach who’s used to yelling at people to get into shape while losing it himself, and never facing backlash because he’s in charge.

Well, Mark wasn’t one of his little sports players- Mark was his son. Though, none of that seemed to matter to Darrick.

The two stood by the snack table. Mark was leaning against the wall, sighing as he was trying to not break down- but he couldn’t get his parents’ hateful words out of his head. The scars, once old and almost forgotten over the years, now fresh and open.

“Mark... you know, we don’t have to stay-“

“No.” Mark interrupted Fenton’s blabbering. “I want to stay... they think I’m a disgrace, but I have to prove them wrong!... Somehow...” He groaned, looking away from Fenton’s concerned gaze. He didn’t know how he could possibly prove to his mother and father he wasn’t worthless... he’s been trying since he was a little kid, getting called weak and useless just because he wasn’t as strong or as fast or as tough as his older sister. He was always second best, and considering there were only two siblings, that automatically made him the worst. And he would always be the worst.

The more Mark thought about this, the more hopeless he found the situation was. He would never be useful, he would never have worth, he would never be wanted... it was all just POINTLESS. Pointless to even try to be anything more than the families mistake.

All of those thoughts made Mark want to cry and cry. He tried to hold back the sobs and hold his head up high, but it was just too hard. He felt trapped, and even as he wanted to just march over there and give his parents a piece of his mind... he knew better than to even try. He was worthless to them. An useless disgrace. They didn’t want him, no one ever would.

Mark Beaks was so lost in his thoughts, and self-hate, he didn’t even hear Fenton trying to talk to him. “Mark. Mark! Mark!!” Fenton said, gently shaking him, but it progressively became more desperate and rough as Mark was unresponsive.

Mark jumped from his thoughts and turned towards Fenton. “Wha-? Oh, sorry, amigo... I- uhm- was thinking about something...” Mark said, turning to the side. It wasn’t a lie. He WAS thinking. Thinking about how much better off his parents would be if he was dead.

Fenton sighed, knowing that was not the whole truth. But, he didn’t need the whole truth right now. “... I’m going to go call someone to see if we can get a ride out of here... just stay here, okay?”

Mark looked down, and nodded, “O- okay, chico...” He whimpered, hearing as Fenton walked away and off to get them a ride away from this horrible party, as Mark was left alone with his thoughts.

Mark turned away, prepared to just stand and wait, before he heard people talking about him. People were passing by, pointing and talking as if they weren’t just six feet away from him. Mark could hear and see them. Pointing at him ‘discreetly’ as if he couldn’t see them pointing and snickering at him. Saying something along the lines of “that’s the anorexic parrot... heh, guess he was just faking it like he fakes everything else. Look at that pudge. He looks like a fat faggot!”

Mark looked down, remembering all the toxic thoughts and self-hate he went through- and is now GOING THROUGH AGAIN. He could control it and just wanted to cry as he felt trapped. His breath hitched and tears fell uncontrollably. No one cared... no one was doing anything more than laughing at him and increasing his anxious feelings in his chest.

Mark would have just stood there and let them talk, if his parents hadn't grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to look up at them. Emma was doing her signature, condescending glare, at anything she saw as repetitive, unoriginal, and inadequate.

And what could be more unoriginal than Mark -fucking- Beaks!!!

Mark then saw his father, who didn’t give him the opportunity to say anything before slapping the younger, shorter parrot across the face. Mark was breaking already before the sight of them, and then upon feeling his father slap him across the face, the tears began pouring. He could feel the stinging beneath his feathers. As his hand subconsciously, tenderly held onto the burning, painful mark on Mark’s face.

“Tch, and now you’re crying like a fucking child! Like the fatass freak you’ve always been. You’ll never change. You’ll always be a disappointment and a disgrace. And I know anyone would prefer to have no son at all than to be stuck with a worthless piece of shit like you staining the family name.” He said to his son, who a billionaire and whose business is constantly raking in millions of dollars, and his a 10-digit follower count...

And still, the kid believed him. He believed every last word he said. Believing he deserved to be hit, and that all his efforts, all his trying to prove himself were completely and utterly pointless.

“... it was always pointless... it’s like they said, I’ll never amount to anything worth while...”

Mark looked downcast, and his father pushed him against the snack table, causing Mark to collide with the table and fall to the ground. The punchbowl, along with the fruity beverage, slamming over his head and soaking his feathers, as well as staining his expensive clothes. Even by his now billionaire standards this shit was fucking expensive. And now permanently ruined. Just like Marks family relationship.

Mark was now covered in fancy, expensive dishes, having pictures taken of him, being called terrible names, and all he did was curl up into a fatal position and try not to break down again. And if that wasn’t enough for Mark’s eating disorder to relapse, his mother, after Darrick walked off in a fit of rage and anger at the defenseless youth, his mother walked right past him, saying, and knowing that he would hear, “I liked you better when you were starving to death,”

That was what broke Mark. He froze in place. Golden eyes widened at the remark made by his own mother.

And as if running on some kind of autopilot mode, he shot up from his place at the floor in front of the broken down table, and pushed through the crowd of poor snobs- Mark couldn’t help but think how comedic it was that all these people who had half the money that he did, were laughing at him and talking down to him like HE was the poor one. Sure, Mark didn’t wear clothes that cost the same as his HOUSE, because he would like to keep a roof over his head, rather than wear uncomfortable sparkly black suits and tight pants... still, he was laughed at and ridiculed. Talked down to as though he was worthless and irrelevant. Mark ran out the door, putting up the hood of his jacket and looking downwards as he made his way down the stairs. He sat down at the bottom of the staircase, and tried his best to pull himself together. Telling himself to stop being a baby and suck it up... yet he couldn’t. The pain- it just kept on going- and hurting further and further.

“... Mark...” Mark looked up as he saw Fenton walking towards him. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone, I was just-“ Mark shock his head, cutting him off.

“No, no, no, Cabrera... it’s fine. Perfectly fine. Totally fine...” Fenton frowned at Mark’s words. He could hear the pain in Mark’s words, the brokenness in his tone, and hoarse voice along with uncertainty in his eyes. Mark looked off to the side to try and hide the fact he did not fully believe his own words... but Fenton could see right through him.

“You don’t sound fine. Come on, lets go home.

I couldn’t find us a ride, but I got an umbrella and there’s a bus stop nearby...” He said with nervous laughter, and then heard a sigh from Mark.

“Hehe... a romantic walk in the rain followed by awkwardness on the bus, along with me falling asleep on your shoulder along with professing my undying love for you right before I fall adorably asleep?... Sure, why the hell not, chico?” He stood up, and walked down the road, under the black umbrella and cuddled beside Fenton.

Everything that Mark predicted would happen, did happen, and Fenton thought it was adorable... all except the nightmares, anxiety attacks, and once they got home he caught Mark trying to throw up any food he might have eaten that day. And once the two got around to talking about how exactly Mark was feeling after everything that happened...

Fenton found that instead of what he originally thought: Mark was having a small relapse, or they might actually be back at Square One... it was far worse than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I rewrote this whole chapter because I ended up hating my last version of it, and now it’s a Prequel instead of the actual story, and I really wanted to go more deep into Mark’s mental state, and I STILL feel like I’m leaving too much of it unexplored. Sooooooooo... might rewrite childhood or just publish my PT 2 of it. Or might ACTUALLY WRITE A DECENT SCENE WITH HIM AND GYRO FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE :) idk we’ll see


End file.
